


Night Sky (Dimilix Week 2021)

by hermesbabie



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Ballroom Dancing, Body Worship, Cats, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dancing, Dimilix Week (Fire Emblem), Double Penetration, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Letters, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Masturbation, Minor Annette Fantine Dominic/Mercedes von Martritz, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining if you squint, Rimming, Scars, Suicidal Thoughts, TECHINCALLY catboys but not really he's just a regular cat, Threesome - M/M/M, have i mentioned idiots in love, the crushing weight of felix's praise kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:28:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29420880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermesbabie/pseuds/hermesbabie
Summary: A collection of short pieces for Dimilix Week 2021! Prompts and appropriate ratings  listed below. Content warnings are listed in chapter descriptions, if they apply.Day One - Children (T)Day Two - Letters (E)Day Three - Dance (G)Day Four - Winter (E)Day Five - Scars (E)Day Six - Cats and Dogs (T)Day Seven - Victory | Marriage (T)Day Eight - Free Day | Threesome (E)
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 69
Kudos: 60
Collections: 2021 Dimilix Week





	1. Shooting Star (Children)

**Author's Note:**

> A fourteen-year old Felix is hurt and begins the road to recovery. Dimitri does what he can for his closest friend.
> 
> I've always wanted to explore this period of their lives between Glenn's death and the event that strains their relationship a few years later. Please be warned this chapter deals with heavy subject matter (see warning below) and is light on the comfort. I promise everything after this chapter is WAY fluffier. 
> 
> CW: Suicidal ideation, suicide attempt; the injury in this chapter is implied to be the result of a suicide attempt. The injury is not described graphically but the psyche of the character is. Please take care of yourself and do not read if you are at all uncomfortable with this subject. You are loved.

The last thing he remembers is the world spinning on a needlepoint axis, the way that the wind seemed to sing in his ears as it whistled past him, and how heavy his chest felt despite the weightlessness of falling.

When he awakens, the world is too bright, and the voices around him dull and unclear in form or intention. _His father says he fell,_ one says, hushed, _But I hear he jumped._ Whoever it speaks to gasps before being shushed. Perhaps they are aware he can hear them. Perhaps they simply wish to do away with the thought. They will give him some time- let the aches fade and the feeling return to his foot, where it has gone entirely, but when they have made themselves feel better they will ask him for the truth. 

With all honesty, he will tell them he does not know. 

The thought had been festering in the back of his mind for some time now. Over and over again, he had swung his sword into the training dummies and wondered how it would feel to have the blade bite his own skin, to feel what his brother had felt in his last moments. He did not see him die, only read the report, _(Glenn Fraldarius was struck with a spear from a distance, then fell from his horse)_ , but the image is branded in his thoughts. Each time he had thought to do it, he had suddenly felt too sick to continue. Back alone with his thoughts, he wondered if the spear or the fall had killed Glenn.

As a child, he had been afraid of the battlements- of all heights, really- but Dimitri had taught him to be comfortable up there. The first time he’d convinced him to go, it was night and the sky was clear, and he taught him the names of the stars. _That one is the north star, which guides sailors home,_ he says, taking Felix’s hand in his own to point, _And- look! A shooting star!_ With both their hands, he traces the path of the star, and for a moment, it feels as though they control its course.

The night they’d received word of Glenn’s fate, Dimitri had found him there, cloakless in the cold, slumped against a wall with his knees to his chest. The yell that wrenched itself from Dimitri’s throat, a raw cry of his name, made him jerk up and look at him, out of time to wipe the tears that stained his face. _Did he think Felix was gone too?_ The thought is painful, and sends a quiver through his body. That night, he did not leave the battlements. He awoke with the sun the next morning, Dimitri’s heavy winter cloak wrapped around the both of them where they lay, gangly teenage limbs entangled on the harsh stone of the parapet.

A year after that, there had been a service in Glenn’s honor that he left early. He walked along the battlements to clear his mind, feeling dizzy and cleft by memory. And then he was in his bed, hurting. 

The door to his room opens, then closes. The voices from earlier are shut out, but someone is watching him. He prays it is not his father.

He knows it is Dimitri as soon as he begins to approach. He has a particular gait, light and balanced as a lancer should be. Though he is a prince, his garments do not clink and rattle with adornments like so many others’ do; Dimitri had once told him, shaking with laughter, how he witnessed a duke’s gold chainery belt catch on a door handle and rip the trousers straight off of him. He had promised him, then, he would never be one of _those_ nobles, if he would do the same.

Dimitri is at his side before he knows it, kneeling on the wooden floor, his head nestled among his arms, folded neatly on the bed. His eyes show concern, but not pity; thank the goddess he’s got some sense left in him.

It hurts to turn his neck, but he does, Dimitri reaches out to stabilize him, but draws away as Felix grunts in pain.

“Are you okay?” Dimitri asks. Perhaps he didn’t have that much sense left in him after all. Felix glowers at him, and he turns pink. “Bad question! I’m- all I meant was, just then, but- no, I… suppose you aren’t- aren’t okay, are you.” He’s starting to wish he hadn’t made the effort to look at him, if he was just going to sputter like that. At the same time, turning his head again would be painful.

“The physician said it’s a miracle that you’re... well, that things aren’t as bad as they could have been. You only broke a leg and bruised some ribs, but it should all heal within a few months,” Dimitri says, maybe trying to soothe him.

It has the opposite effect. Great. He’s put himself out of commission for _months_ , and all because of, what, exactly? An accident? An impulse?

He has long decided that he is above crying, but he cannot help the angry tears that well up in the corners of his eyes. He bites his lip for fear of saying something he does not want said.

“I’m going to be staying for a while! To help you out with things,” Dimitri says as he forces a smile, “So-” 

“That’s idiotic!” Felix blurts out. 

It comes out faster than he can control. The Prince of Faerghus, reduced to an attendant, a servant, damn it all, for his use? The notion disgusts him. Dimitri has never known his own worth, never seen himself as more than a vessel to be yanked around by others, but this is beyond low. 

Dimitri senses his distaste and soothes a trembling hand along the side of his face. An affectionate gesture like this was not unheard of between them, but it felt different now. Now, it brushed away tears of anger that he must’ve thought were for him. It only made the ache in his core worse. More tears fell, and then Dimitri was on the bed with him, letting Felix’s wet face come to rest in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms gingerly around him, careful not to brush against the worst of the injuries to his chest and back. At some point, he becomes aware of Dimitri’s own tears rolling through his hair.

They laid like that for as long as his body could take it, until it felt like his ribs might burst from his skin if only to twine among Dimitri’s own, to be as one as they could be. Dimitri helps him roll to his back and take a few sips of still-warm honey water. 

Dimitri exhales softly through his nose, a telltale sign of nervousness Felix had memorized long ago. “If at any point I’m overstaying my welcome, Fe-”

Felix cuts him off with a desperate grab at his wrist. “Stay.”

At some point, it got dark outside. The window is open, and the crisp smell of winter is wafting in. The chill is nothing against the roar of the fireplace and the warmth of the blankets. Dimitri removes his overclothes and slips under the duvet, intertwining his fingers with Felix’s. They lay like this a while, too.

When the quiet is too much to bear, Felix speaks, the first thing he can think of. “Do you remember when you showed me the stars?”

Dimitri nods. “Of course.” 

“When you took my hand, and we tracked the path of that shooting star, I thought we were controlling it.”

Dimitri snorts a laugh. Felix almost does too, but the sound is lost as it thrums unpleasantly against his aching chest.

“I do not mean to laugh at you, only- it is unlike you to have such whims,” Dimitri says softly (correctly), “But we were young, I suppose. Everything seemed possible back then.”

“Maybe one day you’ll figure out how to do it,” Felix muses, his eyelids fluttering with sudden exhaustion. He must be hurt pretty badly if he’s turning to _whimsy_ for conversation with his closest friend.

“If I do, I’ll give you one. Promise,” Dimitri chuckles, absurdly sincere as always. After that, they drift into difficult sleep. In the morning, surely, he will face his father, and the subsequent hoard of concerned relatives and friends. It will overwhelm him, but he will bear it for their sakes, he supposes. 

But that is the morning. Tonight, the sky is full of stars, and he is held as he beholds it.


	2. Cluster (Letters)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of letters between His Royal Majesty Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd and his beleaguered husband, Duke Fraldarius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tooth-rotting fluff with a splash of horny juice, in letter form. This was gonna be an M but it got away from me lol.

To Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd  
His Royal Majesty of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus  
Or Whom it May Concern,

The matter in Fraldarius territory has been settled. It was nothing more grave than an upstart noble- for your sake, I pray you do not recall Lord Hester, though I believe he stained our good home with his presence once last year- throwing around empty words. The “Almyran uprising” he cried wolf of is apparently a response to his eldest’s decision to wed an Almyran girl. A brief investigation was conducted, more to shut him up than anything; we found no reason to believe her agenda extends beyond marrying the one she loves. 

The whole matter is utterly ridiculous. He is, hypothetically, apologetic for the trouble he has caused, though I am not convinced. The wedding is in two weeks- although I do not believe Lord Hester would be foolish enough to cause more trouble, I have elected to stay until then to ensure the peaceful union of bride and groom. The younger Lord Hester and his bride-to-be seem to be of a good sort, and they are after all the victims of the elder Lord Hester’s diatribe. Once that is settled, I will make my return.

Sincere Regards,  
Felix  
Duke Fraldarius

* * *

Dearest Felya,

Since you insist on formality, I will gently remind you that I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd- **Fraldarius** , your proud _husband_ , and greatly desire to be addressed as such. I am isolated enough as it is with you so far away from me, and am disheartened to have that gap widened by your unbecoming decorum.

Putting that aside, I am glad the matter you left to attend to has been resolved relatively painlessly. I do, in fact, remember Lord Hester the elder, though I wish it were not so. Never has there been such an unpleasant man, so undeserving of the noble title he lauds over others; but recall, if it humors you, how our mutual friend Margrave Gautier spent that evening slipping coin to our guests to “accidentally” collide with him, knocking that ghastly wig off his head no less than ten times. Normally I would not approve of bribery, or of such blatant tomfoolery at a formal event, but a more human part of me believes he deserved it for all his grandstanding and general foulness.

Please give Lord Hester the younger and his bride my well-wishes; I shall arrange for a wedding gift to be delivered for their trouble.

Additionally, my heart, if I am to be apart from you another two weeks, please write to me again soon. Every part of me aches for your presence.

Yours Always,  
Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd- **Fraldarius**

* * *

Dimitri, 

While I doubt not hearing from me for two weeks would have killed you, here I am, writing you another letter with absolutely nothing of substance to fill it with. 

I suppose it is a good thing that the past few days have been uneventful. We are staying in the estate, of course. I have taken up my childhood room. I know the master bedroom is mine by right, but I know father’s things are still in there, and it doesn’t feel right to go in there. 

Incidentally, I did find a few things of yours that got left here over the years. I didn’t feel it necessary to say I missed you in my previous letter (I thought it was implied) but since it seems to make you feel good about yourself, yes, I do miss you. I found a shirt of yours that still smells like salt and lake water, from that day we went swimming and snuck back in through my window so we couldn’t get told off for coming back late. I slept with it tucked under my chin like some sort of security blanket. 

If you tell anyone that, I’ll kill you, and I mean that.

Love,  
Felix Fraldarius- _Blaiddyd_ ( _happy now, you sentimental fool?_ ) 

* * * 

Sweet Felya,

I was delighted to receive your letter, and to see my name joined with yours. Do not hate me, but I think it actually hurt more to see it than it did to see you forget it, for it reminded me that I was without you.

Your secret is safe with me, my love, but let it be known how endlessly adorable I find it that you would do such a thing with an old shirt of mine. I smiled just seeing those words, but my heart ached. 

I must admit to you that when I found myself with something bearing your scent, I did not act so innocently. As soon as I breathed in your smell, from your pillow in the bed we share, I felt so aroused and filled with longing that I could do nothing but fist my cock to the thought of you, my darling. I miss falling asleep next to you, and I miss waking you up in the morning with kisses and little touches, and _goddess above_ , my Felix, do I miss being inside of you and wringing those sweet noises from your throat as I fuck you. I miss undressing in the evenings and seeing all the marks your wicked little mouth has left on me. What I wouldn’t give to have you with me tonight, darling Felya. I know there is only a week left before I see you again, but each day it grows more unbearable.

Additionally, Mercedes came for a visit. She sends her regards and regrets to have come by when you were away. 

See you soon, my starlight.

Love always,  
Dima 

* * * 

To my whorish husband,

Don’t read further than this in the company of others. As per usual, tell no one of the contents of this letter.

I got your last letter and touched myself to it. Does that arouse you, you beast? Me, in the first bed we ever shared, with my fingers up my ass and thinking of you? I wish I’d brought one of our toys, but alas, my foresight fails me again. Every time I leave you, I forget what a whore you turn into when you’re deprived of what you want. But yes, since I know it’ll please your ego, I miss how you feel inside of me too. I miss you for other reasons too, but if you’re going to get both of us worked up while we’re hundreds of miles apart, then I’ll set the sentimentality aside for a while and just torture you a little more.

But only a little more, Dima. I’ll be home soon.

Your coquettish love,  
Felix

* * *

_The wedding goes over smoothly, and soon they are reunited. Hundreds of years in the future, historians will find these letters and the dozens of others like them between the king and his consort and realize that there is perhaps such a thing as learning too much._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/hermesbabie)! Come say hi and scream with me.


	3. Eclipse (Dance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix and Dimitri hold their first royal ball as a married couple. Which means Felix actually has to _learn_ the stupid dance.
> 
> How insufferable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with the Felix who can't admit how much he likes spending time with his husband >:)
> 
> This chapter is just these idiots waltzing and being stupidly in love. That's it. Enjoy.
> 
> As always, I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/hermesbabie)! Come say hi.

“Alright, so. First, you step back with your right foot-” 

“I _know_ that! We’ve been at this for an hour already!” 

He doesn’t mean to snap- and it lacks his usual sincere vitriol, making it more like a kitten baring its teeth with no intention to use them. Dimitri notices this, and smiles, one arm still draped elegantly across his husband’s back.

“I know we have, my dearest,” he coos, “But this is important. We’ve got to make a good impression.” The pet name makes Felix huff and bite his lip in a poor attempt to draw attention from the blush slowly creeping up his cheeks. The little terms of endearment Dimitri had for him- _my dearest, my love, beloved, starlight, sweet Felya_ \- still got to his head the way they had when they’d first gotten together nearly three years ago now, though he would sooner fall on his own blade than actually tell Dimitri that (he already knew, of course). 

The ball had been Dimitri’s idea, obviously. _“A show of goodwill,”_ he had called it, _“To bring together Fódlan’s lords and ladies for a night of pleasantries and peace.”_. It would also be the first public event he would attend as Dimitri’s lawfully wedded husband. On one hand, he would cherish the opportunity for the world to know where his heart truly lay, to show them that he was more than a cold-hearted anomic with an often-bloodied blade; on the other hand, when he’d announced his engagement to Dimitri to Annette, she’d thrown her arms around him and cried for nearly half an hour. At their wedding, she cried again, but mercifully chose to take up a spot on Mercedes’s shoulder instead of his own. If he had to put up with that sort of off putting enthusiasm for what _should be_ his and Dimitri’s private life again, he might explode.

“Felix.” Dimitri’s hand was soft against his cheek, jolting him back to the present moment. “They’ll be expecting a dance, but if you really don’t want it, I won’t make you. We’ll say you strained a leg or something-” 

He is surprised, but delighted, to be cut off by a kiss, a chaste little exchange that does not fit the frown on Felix’s face when he pulls away. He closes the distance between them again, knocking their foreheads together and chuckling at the grunt it draws from Felix.

“I’ve done stupider things for you than this,” Felix grumbles, “But I won’t spend all evening on it. Come on. From the top, Dima.”

It comes to them slowly. Dimitri has done this before, though not more recently than the White Heron Ball, where the Professor had inexplicably chosen him as their representative. He had done surprisingly well, and Felix would be lying to himself if he said that seeing Dimitri in that ostentatious little number hadn’t done something… _impure_ , was a word for it, to his young, repressed mind.

In around half an hour, they’d gotten the basics down, although they were starting to feel dizzy from the unrelenting torrent of stepping, spinning, and lifting (he could not fucking believe he’d let Dimitri talk him into a lift). Another half an hour and a sigh of “good enough” from both parties, their fate was sealed; in another rising and setting of the sun, they would present themselves as husbands to a room of Fódlan’s greats, a number of them being their old classmates. And Felix would let himself be lifted like a blushing maiden, and never be able to live it down.

How different his life might be if he weren’t so damned in love.

* * *

Dimitri looked lovely in blue.

There was something about the way it brought out the brightest shades of it in his eyes, or maybe it was how it looked against his skin, once gaunt and pale, now smooth and rosy with good health. Maybe it was because he had worn it so often in his younger years, and it roused memories of more innocent times. 

Felix frowned. He’d only had a single glass of wine. It couldn’t be the alcohol. So maybe he _was_ just sick enough with love to do something as foolish as this. 

The orchestra’s strings began to pluck out a beat he’d had burned into his brain not a full day earlier. _One, two, three, four, five, six ; one, two, three, four, five, six_. He approached his husband, engaged in an apparently hilarious conversation with Annette and Mercedes, who were arm in arm. When had _that_ happened? He’d figure it out later; something else was on his mind. 

“Your majesty,” he began, extending a hand that trembled against his will, “My- my dear. Would you care to dance?”

Dimitri’s eye was wide with some indescribable mixture of emotions, though it was akin to _reverence_. He took Felix’s hand almost too quickly, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I would be honored, my love. Excuse us, miladies.”

Felix suddenly remembered they had an audience. By the grace of the goddess, Annette did _not_ burst into tears, but simply smiled, nuzzling her head into Mercedes’s shoulder.

“Oh! Annie, we should dance too!” Mercedes hummed in her characteristically cheerful tone.

Felix’s heartbeat was louder in his ears than it had been in some time as the two couples approached the ballroom’s floor. He felt eyes on him as Dimitri slipped an arm around him, taking his hand with his own free hand. Were they judgemental eyes? Did they detest the sight, or were they envious of him? Were they… envious of _Dimitri_? _That_ couldn’t be. Or could it?

All his thoughts were interrupted when he felt Dimitri’s arm tighten around him. Fine. They were doing this, he guessed. He was in the air for only a second before being plopped down gently; vaguely, he heard Annette struggling to support Mercedes in her own arms, and chuckled. He had survived. 

In celebration, or adoration, or whatever, he pressed his head against Dimitri’s chest as they continued to sway.

“You are cruel to me, Felix. To hide yourself from me at a moment like this, when I wish nothing more than to drink in the full loveliness of your face,” Dimitri chided.

“Shut the fuck up,” Felix said, affection plain in his voice. Dimitri chuckled, the vibration in his chest stirring against Felix’s face where it rested. He allowed his eyes to flutter shut in contentment. _One, two, three, four, five six; one, two, three, four, five, six- applause?_

Oh. The song had ended.

And they were the only ones still on the floor. 

And Dimitri’s eye had been opened, presumably, so he knew that.

The bastard. He was lucky he loved him so damned much.


	4. Solstice (Winter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faerghus winters are cold. Faerghans have a special way of staying warm. (It's sex.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snuggly morning sex PWP. That’s it lol. Fun fact, this was almost a desk sex fic, for some reason? I might do that for the free day because I still want to write it :V
> 
> I’m on [twitter](https://twitter.com/hermesbabie) (for chatting) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/hermesbabie) (for requests and such)!

Their room is fucking freezing.

Despite the closed windows, obscured by thick velvet curtains, and the fire that has been roaring since they’d retired early last evening, and the several layers of soft clothes he wears, and the large form of Dimitri wrapped tightly against his back, Felix is as cold as hell frozen over. 

He pulls the duvet tighter around his body before shuffling himself to be even closer to Dimitri, who groans lightly and pulls him closer subconsciously (dammit; he was cute when he was too tired to be annoying). He knows it's unlikely that he’ll fall back asleep, but he can at least take the morning slowly. It was a luxury neither of them usually had, but by sheer coincidence (or perhaps the influence of the goddess), their schedules were clear for the day. No mountains of paperwork, no audiences with pompous upper class types, no diplomatic envoys to attend to, nothing. 

He tucks his head under Dimitri’s chin and finds himself so relaxed that the next noise Dimitri makes causes him to jump.

“ _Mm, beloved,_.” 

Felix flushes. Dimitri is clearly still asleep- dreaming, then. And rather pleasantly, it seemed. Experimentally, he nuzzles at Dimitri’s neck, pressing light, open-mouthed kisses there, the noises his husband begins to make singing in his ears and going straight to his cock.

“ _Ah, there, sweet,_ ” Dimitri moans, his breath hitching slightly, “ _Uhn- Felya…_ ”

Felix gets bolder with his kisses, sucking a mark into the junction between Dimitri’s neck and collarbone, then soothes it with a lick. Dimitri’s hips buck against him, and he is just barely able to stifle the groan of arousal that spills from him as Dimitri’s half-hard cock brushes against his own. He smiles with self-satisfaction, though he need not have; Dimitri was ever-so easy to please. 

Dimitri’s eye fluttered open, finally, when he felt Felix beginning to stroke him.

“Wh- _ah, Felix_ ,” he stuttered, voice heavy with sleep and arousal, “To- to what do I owe the honor?”

A few weeks ago, Felix had promised to stop rolling his eyes so much when they took each other to bed, but he couldn’t stop himself this time. 

“I’m cold, Dima,” he said softly, paradoxically beginning to slip out of his clothes, “Warm me up.” Dimitri’s pants came off almost too quickly. He took himself and Felix in hand and began to stroke, slow and languid, savoring the rough noises that began to slip past Felix’s lips.

“I was just dreaming about you,” Dimitri whispered against the shell of his ear, flicking the lobe with his tongue, “Hah- you probably knew that. Might I indulge you with some of the details?” 

“Could show me instead,” Felix half-complained, half-moaned, “I told you, I’m _cold_. Talking isn’t going to do shit about that.” Dimitri laughed, soft and rich.

“Impatient, Felya?” 

“ _Cold_ , idiot.”

He could feel Dimitri’s smile as he kissed him. Felix deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue between those petal lips of Dimitri’s, drinking in the feeling of having him moan against his mouth.

“Cold and impatient, understood,” Dimitri coos, “Lie on your stomach for me, dearest?”

Felix complies, suppressing a groan at the feeling of his cock (already leaking, shamefully) dragging across the fabric of their sheets. He nestles his head against his arms and bounces his leg petulantly. He could hear the telltale opening and closing of the topmost drawer of their nightstand. What was a little confusing was why he didn’t hear the bottle being uncorked.

“Dima, come _on_ ,” he groans, “You go on and on about how you’d do anything for me, but you’re honestly just going to let me freeze to de-”

He is cut off abruptly by the feeling of Dimitri’s tongue against his hole. His body goes lax almost immediately, and he is too surprised by the sudden intrusion to suppress the whine that spills from his mouth. Dimitri spreads his cheeks and goes at him like a man starved, fingers digging into his hips to hold him down as he takes his fill. Dimitri’s tongue, like the rest of him, is big, and it feels good- no, that’s not a strong enough word for it. It feels heavenly- blasphemous, even, with the way it curls inside of him and brushes tantalizingly over his inner walls, just barely missing that sensitive bundle of nerves Dimitri so delights in abusing.

Tears are pricking at the corners of his eyes when Dimitri finally, mercifully, pulls away, pressing a gentle kiss to Felix’s tailbone. He tries to rut against the blankets, but his hips are still held firmly in Dimitri’s hands- he’s holding on tight enough that it’ll probably bruise. 

Good.

The bottle of oil is uncorked, and one finger slips effortlessly inside his worked open hole. Dimitri begins to pump the digit slowly, leaning over to plant lewd kisses along Felix’s neck, his spine, his shoulders, whatever he can reach; whatever he can do to ensure Felix keeps making those needy little noises and writhing beneath him.

“While I’ve got you where I want you, I’m going to _insist_ you let me tell you a little about that dream of mine,” Dimitri purrs against his skin, “It was ever so lovely.”

“F-fine,” Felix stutters. _More than fine_. “But keep moving, _please_.”

He adds a second finger, scissoring them and feeling Felix stretch around him. He keeps his lips just barely touching the shell of his ear.

“Well, it didn’t start out lovely. I was at my desk, signing papers, but every time I finished one, a new one would take its place. But then you showed up,” Dimitri whispered, “You didn’t say a word, just pulled my chair back and got between my knees. And your _mouth_ , Felya, your sweet, wicked mouth- have I told you how pretty you look with your lips around my cock? What it does to me to hear those noises you make when you’re choking on me?”

“ _Fuck- Dimitri, please,_ you can’t just- you can’t just _say_ things like that,” Felix stutters, breath hitching as Dimitri finally touches that sensitive spot inside of him. And the bastard has the gall to _laugh_.

“Can’t I, my love? It’s all true. In my dream, I was about to come, fill that sweet throat of yours with my seed, when I woke up, and… well, here we are.” He slipped in a third finger unceremoniously. “Feeling a little warmer, darling?” 

That was a word for it. Felix’s entire body seemed to tremble, his skin flushed and coated in a thin veil of sweat. Whatever he was about to say came out as no more than a sharp whine, hips snapping forward as Dimitri thrust his fingers all the way out before plunging them back in. 

“That was a question,” Dimitri chuckled, a hint of darkness in his timbre- that drove Felix fucking wild.

“Y-yes, Dima,” he breathed out, “Feels- feels good, feels _sofuckingood_ , _haa,_ ”

Dimitri kissed him, oddly chastely, tilting his chin to meet his lips.

“Good boy,” he murmured against his lips, knowing well Felix was too wrecked to be scandalized, “I love you.”

Felix’s heart caught in his chest. _Sentimental fool_ , a less occupied Felix would say. But, in the moment, all he can do is kiss him again, and again, and again, rocking back onto his crooked fingers.

When Dimitri removed them, the emptiness felt unbearable. But it was only another moment, another swipe of oil against his hole and the familiar sound of Dimitri’s grunts as he stroked himself, before he felt the tip of Dimitri’s cock pressing against his entrance.

They’d been married nearly a year, and did this on a fairly regular basis. Somehow, though, he always managed to forget just how _big_ his husband was until he was pushing inside him, stretching him in a way that married pain and pleasure. When Dimitri bottomed out, they groaned in unison.

He was about to demand he start moving when he felt Dimitri pull out nearly all the way before slamming back inside him, wrenching an ungodly yell from Felix’s raw throat. How he could go from dead asleep to fucking him like his life depended on it in a matter of minutes was beyond him, but it mattered little- nothing mattered at all, it seemed, when he felt like this; so thoroughly ruined, overrun with white-hot pleasure as his husband fucks him roughly into the mattress of their bed, all the while groaning in his ear wrapping his fingers in his hair to pull his head back for a better angle to kiss him.

It doesn’t take long- their morning trysts never lasted as long as either of them knew they could. With a particularly rough thrust that pressed insistently against his prostate, Felix felt Dimitri spill inside him, heard the obscene squelching noise of cum leaking out of his hole and down his thighs onto the sheets. Their poor cleaning staff.

Dimitri felt boneless, but kept going, hitting Felix’s prostate with every thrust and stroking him until he came with a strangled moan, sticky spend spreading across Dimitri’s hand. He pulled out then, and flopped gracelessly next to Felix as the both of them panted for breath.

“Give me just a moment, darling,” Dimitri said softly, “Let me regain my- my bearings, and I’ll go get some water and a cloth to clean us up.”

Felix grunted, his face still pressed into a pillow. “If you get up now, you’ll get cold.”

Dimitri raised an eyebrow, then laughed, gently slapping Felix’s exposed ass. “Dirty.”

Felix’s smile was his favorite site in the world, always just a quirk of his lips, but sweet and sincere as anything- and always so telling. Right now, it said, “I know, and I’ll be mad about it when we get up later, but I’m okay with it for now.” 

Dimitri threw the heaviest blanket back over them and pulled Felix’s back close to his chest, interlacing their fingers in front of them. He pressed his face into Felix’s hair and breathed in his scent- pine, sweat, and sex. Perfection.

“G’night,” he murmured distantly, sleep already threatening to wash over him, “‘ove you.”

“Love you," Felix grumbles endearingly.

It's the greatest warmth in the world.


	5. Constellations (Scars)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He isn’t beautiful, until he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay kids can you say “body worship?” 
> 
> I’m on [twitter](https://twitter.com/hermesbabie) (chatting) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/hermesbabie) (requests)!
> 
> TW: Somewhat graphic descriptions of injuries and the scars they left, low self-esteem (it gets better quickly, don't worry)

Felix is there for Dimitri’s first scar. Aged, oh, who knows, five or so, the fool runs headlong into a table and splits the skin on his forehead, just beneath his hairline. For a tot, he is stoic, and does not so much as whimper as the blood rolls down his face and mixes with the tears he cannot hold back. Felix does the panicking and yelling for him, until someone with enough sense to shepherd him to the infirmary appears. It heals nicely thanks to his youth, and by the time they are grown, it is all but forgotten, a little white line against his rosy skin. 

Over the years, he accumulates a few more marks like that one- his lack of coordination in the kitchen results in a small blotch against his wrist shaped like lightning strikes; a sudden surge of confidence when learning to ride a horse leads to a tumble and an unsightly scratch on his hip that forgets to ever fade.

These are not the scars he minds. Those are reminders of simpler times, of how quickly one could fall and lift themself back up.

The first time Felix slipped his hands under Dimitri’s shirt, they had stopped as soon as they found a particularly deep cut. The kiss they had been enraptured in was cut short.

“A lance,” Dimitri said softly, “There was a healer on me before I’d even hit the ground. It was a miracle, really, but I didn’t feel that way at the time.”

“Don’t say things like that, Dimitri,” Felix growled. He let his fingers continue to slide up, feeling how Dimitri’s muscles flexed beneath his touch. They’d only had sex a few times, and each time, Dimitri had insisted on staying as clothed as possible. Felix’s heart sank a little when he realized the host of marks he could feel were likely the reason why.

_Could_ Dimitri be that dense? To think that Felix wouldn’t find him attractive because of them? He had scars of his own, _all_ of them who had fought together did; big ones, small ones, those wrought by blades and by magic alike.

He took a deep breath, idly rubbing a finger around one of Dimitri’s nipples and languishing in the choked off moan it brought from him. He channeled his inner Sylvain, a part of him he didn’t think he had, and definitely had mixed feelings about. 

“What is it going to take to convince you that you’re beautiful?” 

He meant to spit the words, but it came out as something closer to a purr. Great. He’d been with Dimitri for what, two months? And he was already getting soft. He just couldn’t help it- something about Dimitri, as coarse and broken as he could sometimes be, brought out an instinct in him he hadn’t known since he was a child. _Protect him. Look after him. Let yourself love him, idiot._

Dimitri didn’t say anything, just leaned in to kiss Felix again- carefully, warmly, gently pushing his tongue in between his lips and licking into him. Felix’s fingers continued their exploration, brushing over the cracks and grooves in Dimitri’s skin and rubbing when he knew he’d found a sensitive spot. Gradually, Dimitri’s soft hums of pleasure began to turn into something more desperate, each whine and groan spilling out of him louder than the last. Felix took his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down, an animalistic growl of his own escaping him. 

If he had to break Dimitri to put him back together, so be it.

“Take your clothes off, Dima,” he murmured against Dimitri’s lips, now spit-slick, red and puffy, “Why the hell are you so sure I’m gonna judge you?” 

Dimitri sighed, tilting his head to the seat of the bed to avoid Felix’s eyes. Nonetheless, he took his hands into his own, worrying over his knuckles with his thumbs. 

“It is… difficult for me to see them and think positively of myself. I deserved the majority of them, for all the ruin I set into motion-” 

Felix cut him off by wrenching his hands free and gripping Dimitri’s chin tightly in one of them. Dimitri’s eye went wide with- fear? No, that was _definitely_ arousal. Unexpected but… good to know, Felix thought to himself.

“Dima,” he said sternly, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But _I_ am not comfortable knowing that’s how you think of yourself. I want to see if I can make you change your mind.”

Dimitri nodded slowly, his chin still in Felix’s hand. Felix soothed the unsure quirk of Dimitri’s lip with a light, chaste kiss. “Get undressed for me, Dima. Let me see you so I can start making you feel good.” 

Dimitri’s hands were trembling as he lifted his shirt over his head. When it was off and on the bed beside them, his arms reflexively tried to cover the newly exposed skin, but Felix’s hands pushed them aside.

It was a grisly scene. Scores of marks littered his skin, though none stuck out so brazenly as the one that sat directly over his heart; deep, broad, and shaped like an x, rising and falling with each unsteady breath that he took. An unpleasant part of him understood what Dimitri had meant. Though the war was over now, he surely felt these deeper scars with every movement, every rise and fall of his chest.

He started near the top, a spackle of twisted, angry skin at the base of his collarbone. That had to be a burn- probably from a spell that had snaked its way past his armor. He kissed it lightly, so as not to irritate it, and only for a moment before moving onto the next mark. And the next, and the next, and the next, until he heard Dimitri make an odd, strangled sound.

Was he crying? _Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit._

“Hey,” Felix said as softly as he could, kissing the tears that now flowed freely down Dimitri’s face, “It’s okay. _You’re_ okay. I’ve got you. Can I keep kissing you?”

Dimitri nuzzled his face into the crook of Felix’s neck, breathing him in shakily. “Y-yes. I’m sorry, Felya, I’m sorry-”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. Can you take everything else off for me? Think I _might_ know how to make you feel better.”

Dimitri laughed a little at that, and took off his pants and smallclothes. His legs were clearer of scars, though there were still a few here and there. Additionally, he was hard. Felix couldn’t hide his smile. He slipped off the bed gracefully and onto his knees, pulling Dimitri along into a seated position.

“Gonna make you feel so good, Dima,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the sensitive head of Dimitri’s cock, “Make you feel so pretty. But can you do one more thing for me?”

Dimitri nodded, more fervently than he had meant to; it was hard not to be a little on edge in this situation. Felix got up for a moment and settled in his lap, then placed a hand on the band of the patch that covered his eye. 

He didn’t mean to do it, but his hand flew up to hold Felix by the wrist. When Felix made eye contact with him, he slowly loosened his grip. “Good boy,” Felix murmured, leaning in for another kiss. The term of endearment was certainly foreign coming from his mouth, but he _absolutely_ wasn’t against it.

Felix tugged the patch off gently, setting it to the side, and saw, for the first time, what it concealed. 

Nothing remained of the eye that had once been there, replaced by a long, raised section of skin that spanned the totality of the empty socket. The skin folded oddly on itself there, forming stiff pink rolls of flesh. Cleary, the eye had been cut out, purposefully. Cautiously, he raised two fingers to stroke the mark, before pressing a single, gentle kiss to it.

He couldn’t stop the thought forming in the back of his mind, in that cruel, violent place he hadn’t had need of in quite some time. _If he ever found out who had done that, he’d kill them_.

“Thank you, Dima,” Felix murmured, “My lovely. Can I suck your cock, pretty Mitya?”

Dimitri hummed an affirmative, bucking his hips at the mere suggestion. Eager, then. Good.

Back on his knees, Felix took Dimitri’s not insignificant length in his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and sucking eagerly. With a breath in through his nose, he pushed himself further down on it, moaning when he felt it touch the back of his throat. Dimitri moaned at the feeling, the warmth of Felix’s hot mouth that he was beginning to become familiar with. He looped a few locks of Felix’s hair in his hand, rocking his hips gently experimentally.

“Can I- can I?” he gasped. 

Felix pulled up for a moment, relishing the breath of fresh air. “Yeah. You want to come like this tonight?” he practically purred, using one hand to continue stroking Dimitri.

“Y-yes. Yes, please,” Dimitri whimpered. Felix resumed, taking him to the hilt in one fell, obscene swoop. When Dimitri began to thrust, pushing in and out of his throat, he couldn’t help but moan around him, savoring the feeling of being so saints-damned _full_. It was like nothing else in the world.

Dimitri’s thrusts grew more erratic before he came with a long groan, spilling down Felix’s throat. He pulled out, panting, and groaned once more when he saw how Felix licked his lips.

“Felix- _Felya_ , sweetheart, darling, come up here,” he sang sweetly. Felix climbed into his lap and finally slipped his pants down enough to let his cock free, letting the precum that dribbled from the tip smooth over Dimitri’s stomach. Dimitri’s hand on his cock, jerking him frantically, and his lips on his neck, kissing, biting, licking, anything for _more_ of him, and he too was coming, spilling warmly onto Dimitri’s hand and moaning with more fervor than he realized he had built up. 

After wiping themselves down, they collapsed next to each other, warm and flushed with sex and utterly exhausted.  
“Felix,” Dimitri said quietly, resting his head on Felix’s chest, “Thank you. I… actually don’t think you’ve ever been that nice to me before. I’ve got to admit, it bordered on unsettling but… well, it _was_ you, so I loved it. I-” 

The words caught in his throat. But no. Felix deserved this. The truth, unfettered by worry. 

“I love you.” 

Felix’s hand was carding lazily through his hair. He didn’t seem to react. Good thing? Bad thing? Maybe, maybe, _maybe he definitely shouldn’t have said, he definitely just made it weird-_

“Love you too, idiot. You knew that,” came Felix’s nonchalant response. 

Ah. There was the usual Felix. Vitriolic, insulting-

-and in love with him, too.


	6. Felis, Leo, Lynx, et. al. (Cats and Dogs)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic is strange- sometimes it burns, sometimes it heals, and sometimes, weirdly, it turns you into a cat for twelve hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How this is the longest chapter so far by like one thousand words, I will never know. This utter garbage takes place pre-timeskip and pre-Dimilix being a couple. I mentioned this concept as a joke to my friend and they managed to sell me on it. So here it is. The Felix kittyfic not a single person asked for.
> 
> I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/hermesbabie) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/hermesbabie)!

Magic is a strange, unpredictable thing; it is an ever-evolving science, better understood both by its casters and its victims with each use. The magic employed in battle is so terrifying for that reason- one can only be so prepared to face it. It all could be categorized as either black or white magic, but from there they could be split into a million _other_ sub-categories; healing magic, fire magic, dark magic- 

-and then there was transformative magic; magic that caused intense physical changes to take hold of the body. It was usually used as a temporary measure to lower the defense of an enemy, to alter them or simply surprise them enough for them to be dealt with swiftly.

That day’s mission was meant to be straightforward- they always were, and they never were, but whatever- the Professor, Dimitri, Sylvain, Ingrid, and Felix were to track down a company of thieves that had been plaguing the town of Garreg Mach. They had been traced back to an abandoned hamlet an hour to the east, and their numbers were estimated to be less than fifteen. A dozen or so poorly-armed men in a poorly defensible location- what could go wrong?

One of them could be a wicked skilled mage, that’s what. His might had made itself obvious as soon as they’d arrived and he promptly singed the cape straight off of Dimitri’s back. It was a deliberate miss- a threat of worse to come, should they proceed.

“Leave that one to me,” Byleth had cautioned, “And keep a good distance away, obviously he’s got considerable range. Dimitri, Felix, go left; Sylvain and Ingrid, right. Keep their attention while I sneak around back. Watch each others’ backs.” With that, she took off, disappearing between cracked walls and high patches of weeds and ivy.

The other thieves were pretty much what they had expected; dull swords, duller minds, falling easily to the clever footwork and superior skills of the students. Soon, those that remained were tripping over themselves in retreat, leaving only the mage, who had not moved since the battle proper erupted. The four regrouped, ducking behind a felled pillar. The Professor was still not returned.

“Damn it, I think we did a little _too_ well,” Sylvain grumbled, “Now it’s just that guy.” 

“Professor will get to him soon. Let’s just wait it out, like she said,” Ingrid suggested.

Felix scoffed. “I’m not just going to _cower_ here. Stay if you want,” he snapped, “I’m going ahead. The Professor will have no advantage if we don’t distract him so she can attack. She might even be waiting for that, for all we know.” 

Ingrid shook her head. “She told us to stay away.”

“She told us to keep a distance. It’s not the same thing. I won’t engage, just draw his fire until she can get at him.”

Before anyone could stop him, Felix was back out in the open, sword drawn and as viscous a snarl leaving his mouth as any of them had ever heard. “You!” he boomed. The mage had the gall to _laugh_.

“You should have listened to your friends.”

Felix’s blood ran cold. He _heard_ them? How was that possible? They were at least a hundred feet away, hidden completely out of sight, and even then speaking only barely above a whisper. It was possible, of course, that if his magic had such a range, he might be able to extend his other abilities that far- but, no, that was unheard of, especially amongst such an unsavory, amateurish group as the one they had just dealt with. Why _was_ someone like this travelling with them, anyway? 

Perhaps it was a setup. Perhaps he’d known that the monastery would dispatch a group to deal the thieves, and he’d wormed his way into their ranks to get easy access to- to which one of them exactly, if he was indeed an assassin? Dimitri would be the most obvious target, but he, Ingrid, and Sylvain were all nobles in their own right. The Professor had begun to get a bit of a reputation among lowlifes, so it wasn’t impossible that he was here for her- 

He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn’t dodge the first attack that came his way- a surge of white hot Thoron that hit close enough that he could feel residual sparks. One of his classmates called his name. He pressed forward. _Where the hell was the professor?_

More focused, he dodged the next few attacks with relative ease, dashing here and there, ducking behind obstacles and leaping over them in equal measure. When he heard the mage growl in frustration, he couldn’t help but grin.

And then finally, _finally_ , there she was- the Professor, sword drawn, slowly creeping towards the mage. She looked worse for wear, a trickle of blood rolling down her face and her glasses held onto her face by what he assumed to be willpower alone.

“You’ll have to do better than that, you fool,” he spat, “I’m offended, honestly. Did you really think you could do this? You knew to seek us out, clearly, but did you have no idea what we were capable of?” The mage growled, eyes locked on him- good. Byleth was only a few steps away, one swing of her sword and this would all be- 

Then he saw it.

Or rather, _him_. A lone archer, tucked in part behind one of the columns the Professor had emerged between, an arrow nocked and aimed squarely at Byleth’s neck. There _had_ been more of them- that’s what had held her up, and she hadn’t gotten them all, and now, if he didn’t do something, then she- she would- 

“PROFESSOR, MOVE, DAMN IT!” Felix roared. It wasn’t a good idea. But neither was letting his Professor get killed.

What happened next was a blur in everyone’s memory- an arrow rushing past a rolling Byleth, the mage swiveling in surprise, the other students stumbling from behind their hiding spot and charging forward, and Felix-

-where was Felix? The mage’s hands trembled with radiant black magic for the matter of seconds between Byleth losing sight of Felix and her bringing her sword down to cleanly remove the mage’s head. Turning to face the archer, she found him already impaled on Dimitri’s lance, bow clattering to the earth unceremoniously. And then it was quiet. And then they all saw something, at the same time, and it caught in their throats.

Where he had been standing, Felix’s cloak and affects in a pile.

“No-” Ingrid sputtered, “No- that- he can’t have just-”

Byleth rushed over to kneel by the pile while the others stayed frozen in place, Sylvain and Ingrid looking horrified, while Dimitri looked… there wasn’t quite a word for it. His eyes were wide and his lips a thin line, a vein throbbing relentlessly on his forehead. His hands shook where they held his lance. Hesitantly, she put a hand to the mound of clothes.

It meowed. 

_Piles of clothes don’t do that,_ she assured herself. With a positively insane idea and a gentle touch, she began flipping through the cloth and armor. Reaching the pile’s epicenter, she froze.

“Professor?” Sylvain called forward desperately, “What is it? Why are you looking at his things like that?”

When she rose from the ground, she was holding a black cat, its teeth digging relentlessly into her gloved hand. The student’s looks of terror washed over into bewilderment. Sylvain almost choked on the laugh that began to bubble in his throat.

“Oh, he’s gotta be _pissed_.” 

“Sylvain!” Ingrid whined, “This is serious! What- if that- if that really IS him, that is beyond anything we’ve ever studied. We have to get him back to the monastery immediately!”

Byleth nodded, stowing Felix’s things in her pack and beckoning Dimitri forward with a wave. “Agreed.”

That brought them to the present moment- the four of them, along with Manuela and Hanneman, gathered around the angriest little black cat any of them had ever seen.

“There are, of course, a few recorded instances of something like this happening- not turning someone into a cat specifically, no, but into other animals, yes- rats, frogs, newts and the like. It would make sense that the latest development in this admittedly rather _niche_ branch of magic would grant the ability to change someone into a more complex creature. It’s quite fascinating-”

Hanneman’s speech was cut off by a vicious glare from Manuela, who was hurriedly scribbling down notes.

“-or, it would be, were it not presently a great burden for one of our students. In all the accounts I found, the transformation lasted for no longer than twelve hours, with no significant lasting effects beyond some confusion, so that is hopeful. Regardless, he should be monitored until he is returned to his normal state.”

Dimitri sighed. “People are going to start asking why they haven’t seen Felix yet, and I- I don’t feel good about telling them all the truth. I don’t think it’s what he would want.”

Felix kneaded his paws- _goddess, he really was a fucking cat, wasn’t he_ \- into the blanket he was sat on, seemingly a sign of agreement. 

“Well… okay! So which one of us gets to adopt him!” Sylvain beamed. Felix hissed.

“Not you, it would seem,” Ingrid said, a slight smile playing on her lips, “I would volunteer, but cat hair makes me sneeze. It wouldn’t be ideal for either of us. And Professor, I’m sure you’ll be busy with the other students, so…” 

Everyone’s eyes fell to Dimitri. Felix was looking at him too, not outright hissing, but obviously displeased. 

“I… suppose I will take him, then,” he said hesitantly, before gaining a sudden inexplicable surge of confidence, “Yes, I’ll look after him. Professors, Ingrid, Sylvain- if the others ask, he got roughed up in the fight and is resting in his room, not to be disturbed. I will manufacture some excuse to be carrying a cat around until I can get us to my room.”

“Very good,” Manuela chirped, “Just give him a place to rest. I’ll have meals for the both of you sent up to your room until all this is resolved. Now, here you go.” 

In one swift motion, she gathered up Felix and the blanket beneath him into her arms, then thrust him towards Dimitri. Felix made an unseemly spitting sound, trying to bury himself in the folds of the blanket, to little avail. His raven black fur stood out sharply against their off-white hue. Dimitri took him into his arms gingerly and made his way out. 

“I’m sorry about all this, Felix, truly,” he murmured, cautious not to be heard, “I’ll just bring you to my room and let you do your thing, alright? Try not to be too upset with us.”

They made their way through the grounds of the monastery without incident, Felix occasionally snarling as he was jostled around. Aimlessly, Dimitri wondered if any of them would be doing much better in this situation. There were certain people he could think of who might find some appeal in an experiment like this, but Felix was _absolutely_ not one of them. The fact that he’d only bitten Byleth so far was nothing short of a miracle. He was almost there, a few doors away from his own, when he heard a familiar cheery voice call from ahead of him.

“Dimitri!” Annette cooed, padding towards him, “Is that a _cat_? Ooh, he’s so cute! Hey, little guy!”

She reached out a hand to stroke his ears, but, thankfully, Dimitri pulled him back before contact could be made. 

“I- yes, s-sorry, Annette, he’s a bit bitey,” he stammered, “He’s got… a, an injured paw. I’m just looking after him until it’s a bit better.”

Annette’s smile lit the entire hallway. “I didn’t know you had a soft spot for animals. That’s really sweet of you.”

Dimitri chuckled, or tried to, an awkward choked noise replacing what might have been. Realizing he was sealing his fate, he used a single finger to scratch lightly behind Felix’s ear, amazed that he wasn’t immediately chomped on for doing so. “Yes, I… happen to like cats. I should really get him into my room though, so I can look at his paw more closely. See you around, Annette.”

“Sure thing! Good luck, your highness!” she sang, then continued on her original path. Dimitri shut himself in the room and pressed his back against the door, exhaling. He almost managed to forget he was holding Felix for a moment, before he felt him begin to writhe and squirm in his grasp.

“Oh! Sorry, Felix,” he said, gently placing him on the ground. Lightning quick as always, Felix sprinted under Dimitri’s bed, thankful that the prince was not the sort of adolescent who shoved any and all things out of sight there. 

They made it almost an hour before it started to get awkward. _Felix is under my bed right now,_ Dimitri thought with bewilderment, _Felix, my childhood friend. Who is currently a cat. For a period of time yet to be confirmed. He’s a cat. He’s got four legs and a coat of black fur and a cute little sandpaper tongue-_

Uh, wait, where was he going with that?

Felix was certainly not unpleasant to look at, all lithe muscle and sculpted angles, but he had never been what anyone would consider “cute”. Annette was cute, bubbly and agreeable like she’d never outgrown her childhood traits; he supposed Ashe was too, so soft and sincere as he was. But this was, as far as he could remember, Felix’s first time being cute.

He had to say something. He couldn’t sit in silence in his room for another ten or so hours. “You don’t have to hide under there, you know. It can’t be comfortable. I don’t mind it if you want to curl up on the bed, or- or whatever would help. Professor Manuela said it was important for you to be able to relax.”

A hiss from under the bed. Great start. At least the spell hadn’t managed to mess with his personality. 

However, within the next half an hour, Felix did bring himself to creep out of his hiding place, shaking the dust from his coat. Not acknowledging Dimitri, he hopped elegantly onto the bed sheets, settling in the middle and curling himself into a ball.

The next few hours passed in that way, until the sun was setting; Dimitri sat at his desk with various texts open before him for class, occasionally stealing a glance at Felix, who was dozing peacefully. Dinner was brought as promised, a standard meal for Dimitri and a small dish of various meats with a teacup full of water for Felix, who rejected them with a snarl.

“Come on, don’t be this way,” Dimitri sighed, settling next to him and uselessly holding the vessels out, “You must be hungry. This won’t be over any sooner if you fail to keep your strength up. I won’t look, if it bothers you.” 

Felix gave him a grave, threatening stare before plodding towards him, head hung low. With as incredulous an expression as a feline was capable of making, he began to lap at the water with his little pink tongue. _Don’t tell him he’s adorable. He can probably still kill you in this state._ They ate in relative peace.

Soon enough, the moon was making its way into the sky. Dimitri stripped down to his culottes and undershirt, briefly pausing with a jerk when he realized that he was undressing in front of his friend, but proceeding nonetheless. He slipped underneath the bed’s sheets on the far left side, as far from Felix as he could be.

It was never easy for him to fall asleep, and the knowledge that the altered form lying only a few feet away from him was Felix, _his_ Felix, his friend, was not helping. He had nearly made it when he felt something furry brush up against his arm.

It was Felix, naturally. He looked furious. Despite that, he was shivering.

“Oh! Are you cold?” Dimitri asked stupidly, “Yes, you must be- I-”

He froze, the words caught in his throat. He wouldn’t invite the normal Felix to snuggle against him so casually. This wasn’t the normal Felix, though, this was a Felix who was smaller, more fragile, and less capable of regulating his body temperature than usual.

Dimitri lifted the duvet and sheet to make a space next to him. “You’ll be warmer if you stay here. I’m sorry, I know this is rather odd- for you, and for me, believe me, but-” 

Felixed hissed, more weakly than his previous efforts, but nonetheless settled in the space. The very tops of his ears flicked across Dimitri’s arm, sending a strange shiver through his body.

“Goodnight, Felix,” Dimitri said softly, then extinguished the room’s final candle, enshrouding them in the darkness of night time. 

It was common for him to wake up throughout the night. The first time he did so, he found Felix very much still a cat, but snuggled closer to him than he had started. He was fast asleep, and- 

-he was _purring_.

_Oh good, he’s finally comfortable,_ he should have thought. What wormed its way into his brain instead was _He likes being next to you._ He couldn’t help himself- he reached a gingerly hand out to slowly stroke the top of his head. He did not waken, but his purring deepened, becoming louder and steadier. Dimitri couldn’t help but smile, but retracted his hand quickly before drifting back into sleep.

The next time he woke up, it was morning. The weight on his shoulder was heavier than it had been last time- oh! That would be because the Felix next to him was very much human. He was still asleep, his hair undone and ragged in his face, framing it and falling onto his bare shoulders-

Dimitri choked. Felix was definitely naked. Naked, in his bed, with his head on his shoulder. As quickly as he could without jostling Felix, he slipped out of bed and got dressed. _Go get some breakfast. Give him some time to get himself back together before he thinks too hard about any of this._ His hand was on the doorknob-

“Dimitri.” 

He jumped slightly. Felix’s voice was rough and heavy with exhaustion. He turned to face him, slowly.

_He’s beautiful. What if he doesn’t regret it? What if he got closer to him on purpose? Would he do that? Was there a chance Felix liked him anywhere near as much as he liked him?_

“If you tell anyone about any of this, I’ll rip your throat out,” Felix grunted.

“Naturally,” Dimitri said, doing his best not to sound disappointed.

Now that he was himself again, he really could do that, so the threat wasn’t empty. But at least he was safe, and undeniably his old self.

Now all that was left to do was to try to not spend the rest of his life thinking about how much he wanted to feel Felix’s warmth against him again. That couldn’t be too hard.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking the Faerghus Four into battle alone: fun from a storytelling point of view, a nightmare from a logistical standpoint. Wtf are they gonna do with THREE lancers. Of course something went wrong.
> 
> This fic features glasses!Byleth because can I just say, it’s an underrated look.


	7. Supernova (Victory | Marriage)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the war and the beginning of their shared future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe this week is almost done ;0; please enjoy. One more tomorrow and I promise it’ll be fun! 
> 
> I’m on [twitter](https://twitter.com/hermesbabie) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/hermesbabie), if you’re so inclined :>

Felix does not see the moment the war ends, but he hears it: a cacophony of sudden silence. No more metal against metal, no more bursts of spellcasting, no more fighting, no more screams. The earth stills itself in reverence. 

For his part, he is in a wide canvas tent, laid on his back with a deep ache radiating from beneath his diaphragm that worsens with every breath. It is fortunate that not much of import lives there, and that the healers of their army are so quick to act. Through unfocused, unspecific memories, he recalls the soft voice of the one who took him in, the gentleness of her hand on his stomach and the uncanny power of her white magic. _Mercedes_ , he thinks fondly, _It will never be this way again_.

After some battles, there had been cheering, but after five torturous years of fighting, it seems everyone has agreed that the time for revelry has passed; the greatest celebration will simply be to return home and not fear waking up to a sword in their belly, or not waking up at all. He realizes that he, too, can have this relative peace of mind now. Although it does not allay the pain of his body, it quiets his mind enough for him to allow his eyes to close, and much-needed sleep to wash over him.

*

When next he wakes, the pain is not gone, but he is in a soft bed, his head propped up on several pillows and a thin cotton blanket draped over his form. His neck creaks when he turns it to the side to see Dimitri, head in his hands.

“Dimitri,” he croaks. 

At that, the king’s hands fly away from his face and grab one of Felix’s own with a fierce tenderness. He winces slightly at the touch, and Dimitri’s grip softens considerably. One hand lets go entirely, instead coming to rest in the crook of his elbow. 

“Felix,” he says with great emotion, “It’s… it’s over.”

For Dimitri, bound and single-mindedly focused as he has been for the duration of the war, to admit such a thing- it must be true. Then… 

“And Edelgard? She’s dead, then?” 

Dimitri nods, solemnly. “Yes. For a moment it seemed that there might be another solution, but in the end, she was as immovable as ever.”

Felix scoffs, though it lacks its usual venom. “You’re one to talk.”

Dimitri’s laugh does not lack joy, but it is underscored by something weightier. Although the war is over, he doubts that either of them will be done with it for quite some time. Felix, thankfully, is not so haunted in such a literal sense as Dimitri, but he still feels them watching. 

For a moment, he wonders if Glenn and his father are proud of him, and if the former friends he slew with his own sword could possibly forgive him (he remembers how afraid Dorothea looked when she fell, the choked off sound of her name on Ferdinand’s lips as he followed); the thought is dismissed. How many times has he told Dimitri not to be a slave to the feelings of the dead? His present weakness is no excuse for hypocrisy.

Before the quiet can encroach too far, Dimitri breaks it. “The arrow that struck you was poisoned, but luckily not with anything more complex than our healers could handle. When I asked after you, when it was all done, and they told me where you were, what had happened, I…”

He takes a shuddering breath before closing his eye, bringing Felix’s hand to his lips and kissing the palm of it.

“Forgive the cliche, beloved, but I thought all I’d done in winning was lose everything that mattered.”

Felix rolls his eyes and huffs, wrenching his hand away. “Don’t be an idiot. I’m not everything-” 

“You are to me,” Dimitri interrupts, painfully sincere. The sweetness of it gives Felix pause for just a moment before he regains his footing. 

“Shut up, you’re the king,” he continues, “You’ve got an entire kingdom to rebuild, basically from the ground up, but they’ve got you to thank for their lives. Imagine if you’d given up before even making an effort because of something like this.” He gestures to his wound, packed tightly under bandages. It could have killed him, he knows that, but it didn’t. Not everyone could say the same.

“Let’s not argue right now. You need to rest, and I’m here to look after you, not to bicker.”

With that, Dimitri lifts the blanket and sidles in next to him, pressing his chin to the top of Felix’s head and humming softly, indistinctly. Felix sighs- it began as a noise of frustration, but morphed into something more akin to contentment. Dimitri’s weight was a comfort, something he’d grown used to over the past months of their being with each other. 

In the beginning, he had doubted that they would ever reach a place in their relationship that even vaguely resembled was a coupleship should be. Too much of it was built off of hope to have any stability; hope that the Dimitri he’d loved as a boy was still in there, hope that he could let himself be vulnerable enough to give Dimitri a chance, hope that there would even _be_ a future for them to share, once they’d finally settled into a rhythm.

But if this is what the future could be, what _they_ could be, then, maybe he’d been right to keep hoping.

He turned his body slightly to press his chest against Dimitri’s, to breathe in his scent a little more deeply. He must have bathed recently, because he smells like one of those stupid, expensive herbal soaps that people keep gifting him for one reason or another. Were they so doomed to formality and inoffensiveness that they would only receive soap for the rest of their lives? If he was going to spend the rest of his life with Dimitri, would he too be condemned to a life of smelling like lemon balm and tangerine sage? Did he just say he was going to spend the rest of his life with Dimitri? 

Upon his death, his father had bequeathed a number of things to him; the role as Duke Fraldarius, for one, along with assorted material things- a sword that had been in the family for longer than anyone could remember, a collection of Glenn’s things he had thrust sentimentality onto, and a thin iron band with an amber jewel set into it. That was the ring Felix’s mother had given him; she had been buried with an identical one still on her finger.

It was extremely rare for him to start feeling _sappy_ , so he figured he could do it now or never get around to it at all. But his mind is a swarm of thoughts, memories from their lives, worries and hopes and desperate wishes. For whatever reason, be it the way they are laying, or the condition he is in, the thoughts converge in one place.

“The last time I was hurt like this,” he managed uneasily, “I- you were there for me then, too. I don’t think I thanked you. Actually, I think I yelled at you.”

Dimitri pulls back from him slightly, for a moment, he’s terrified he’s said the wrong thing. But it is only so that he can look into Felix’s eyes, take in the richness of their whiskey hue, and gently stroke his jawline with two fingers.

“When you… fell? That is what you’re referring to, yes? That was nearly ten years ago, Felya, I was not angry with you then and I am not now,” Dimitri breathes, his brow knitting together.

“I didn’t say you were,” Felix grunts, “All I’m saying is I never thanked you, and I regret that. I regret a lot of things about us.”

Dimitri’s face falls. “Oh?” 

Felix wanted to hit himself. _Great job, genius! He thinks you’re leaving him!_

“N-not like that! All I- all I’m trying to say is, I appreciate that you’ve been here for me, when you have been. Which has been almost always. And when you weren’t, well- it wasn’t totally your fault.” That wasn’t great either, but it was a step in the right direction, maybe. Maybe he should just get on with it. 

He gestured weakly towards the bedside table. “In there, there’s a little box. Bring it over here.”

Dimitri obeys, standing up and rustling through the drawer’s other contents (more things of Rodrigue’s and Glenn’s, Dimitri noticed with a heavy heart) before producing the box, an inconspicuous brown package. He presents it to Felix.

“Open it,” he commands, not liking the way his voice cracked slightly. Dimitri stares at its contents with reverence, but is silent, not even acknowledging its nature with a touch.

“Is this… for me?” he finally says, voice barely a whisper.

“Of course it is, that’s why I asked _you_ to open it, moron,” Felix spits, “Well? Come on, do you want it or not? Do you want-” 

He is not soft by nature, but for him, he will be, if he must. Now is not the time for his usual coarseness to come out too strongly.

“Marry me?” he asks, the words spilling from his mouth so quickly they almost slur together. “I mean, we sort of have to get married, if you want us to keep this thing we have going, because you’re the king, you can’t just keep me around without giving people a word for what we are, and I suppose ‘husbands’ _would_ be the most appropriate-”

Dimitri shuts him up with a kiss, joyful and boyish in the way their kisses haven’t been since they were first learning how to give them. A shaky laugh vibrates against his lips, and when they break, Dimitri has tears in his eye.

“Of _course_ , Felix! Oh- I, actually can’t believe you asked, I always thought that would fall to me, so I-” Dimitri stammers, fumbling around with something in his pockets. He produces a silver and emerald ring, more intricately carved the simple band Felix had presented- fit for a king, or a king’s consort in this case, as it happened.

“I was going to set up a nice meal for us once you were feeling better, do it properly… I even had a stupid little speech to give you. Ashe helped me write it, if that contextualizes anything you’re about to hear.” Dimitri was off the bed again, down on one knee, holding the ring out to Felix. Felix sighed, but sat up straighter, giggling- _giggling?!_ \- a little.

Dimitri clears his throat. “Felix.” 

“That’s me.” 

“When we were younger, I told you that if I ever found out how to hold a star, I would give it to you, and I meant that. I would do anything for you, my heart, no matter what- anything to make you smile, to keep you happy by my side. And this (he waved the ring around a little, almost dropping it) isn’t a star but… it is close enough, I hope. Please marry me.” 

Felix claps. “Wow. That sucked. But, yes, as we’ve established, I do want to marry you.”

Dimitri laughed despite the tremor in his hands as he slipped the finger onto Felix’s finger, then adorning Felix’s. He held their hands together for a few moments, admiring the marks of their union.

“This is stupid,” Felix confesses, “I was supposed to be resting and here my heart feels like it’s trying to break out of my chest.” Dimitri hums another laugh and snuggles up close to him again, running his now ringed fingers through his hair.

“I’ll make sure it stays in check, dearest,” Dimitri says sweetly. Felix rolls his eyes, placing a kiss to the bottom of his jaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Hermes, there are _lots_ of important organs directly beneath the diaphragm!” you yell. I am deaf to your cries. I disappear in a puff of smoke with your liver, cackling.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and supporting this silly little series!


	8. Collision (Free Day | Dimilix 2: Sylvain Boogaloo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri presents Felix with a gift he never would have asked for himself. (It's Sylvain.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK OK I know this is a day late, I have a midterm today (it's 2:56 am on Monday as of posting) and I spent all yesterday studying. But here it is!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has checked out this series throughout the week, I hope these boys brought you as much pleasure as they brought me. Enjoy your snack (see: shameless PWP)!
> 
> I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/hermesbabie) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/hermesbabie)!

Drunkenness does not come easy to him, nor do confessions; so perhaps it is the preceding inebriation which allows the words to flow without reservation. Dimitri has asked a question of him, bearing his own flush of intoxication across his nose and cheeks. He giggles boyishly when it leaves his lips- _It couldn’t have always been me, right? There must have been someone at school you liked. We had so many_ \- he hiccups unbeautifully - _so many pretty classmates._

Felix is not so far gone as to have lost the ability to roll his eyes and click his tongue, but another few sips of that wretched, delicious Almyran whiskey he’d been gifted has his tongue loosening somewhat. It feels heavy in his mouth, but the answer still comes: “Sylvain.”

Dimitri chokes on his drink before erupting into laughter. Felix splashes the few drops remaining in his glass directly into Dimitri’s face, but it only makes it worse. “I’m not laughing at you, I promise,” he says when he can manage it. 

Felix frowns. “You- you _literally_ are, you’re laughing.”

Dimitri fills his glass again. “A little. It’s just… not what I expected.”

Setting his own glass down (he’s had more than enough for one night if he was willing to admit to something that stupid), Felix abandons his husband to his stupor before undressing and letting his hair fall from its bun. Though he’s doing his best to tune him out, he vaguely hears Dimitri’s _ooooh_ of appreciation as his hair cascades messily down his back. His inhibitions lowered, he snickers. 

When he crawls into bed, Dimitri is waiting for him, arms open like an oversized plush toy. He misses them deliberately when he flops into bed, almost feeling bad when Dimitri whines. On his side and turned away for him, he feels Dimitri slide up behind him, pressing a little kiss onto the top of his head.

“I don’t disagree. He _was_ rather pretty,” he says.

“He is,” Felix grumbles, too far from consciousness to notice the slip of the tongue.

Dimitri notices, and wills his drunken mind to remember it.

***

“I have another birthday present for you.” 

Felix raises an eyebrow, ceasing his assault on the training dummy. “My birthday was two days ago. And you already gave me something.” It was the sword he was using, for crying out loud; a needle-thin rapier with amber and emerald like their wedding bands pressed into the hilt (disgustingly sentimental, but a well-balanced blade; and, he supposed, a reminder of what he would raise it to protect).

Dimitri’s smile is mischievous. “It arrived late. But it’s ready for you now, if you’re interested.” He leans against the door, eye twinkling. _Suspicious._ Nonetheless, he finds himself setting his sword in its sheath and following him. The walk is short, and they end up at their bedroom door.

“It’s in here, I gather?” 

Dimitri nods. His mischievous light has dimmed somewhat, and he now looks a little...nervous? 

_Deeply_ suspicious.

“Indeed. If- if you do not like it, I’ll send it away at once, of course, he won’t mind-” 

Felix’s heart leaps into his throat. “ _He?_ ” 

Dimitri is about to say something when another voice calls out from behind their door: “Great job spoiling it, Dima.”

He’s pretty sure the shock is enough to kill him, snatch his soul back from the goddess’s grasp, and shove it back into his body within the span of about five seconds. _That’s Sylvain. Sylvain is in my- our, bedroom. Dimitri called him a present. The door will open and Sylvain will be there._

The door _does_ open, and Sylvain _is_ there. They haven’t met in some time now, probably since he and Dimitri’s wedding two years ago, and he still wears the same goofy grin and casual posture he’s had since he was a child; his hair is still flaming red and purposefully disheveled, his eyes still jubilant and whiskey brown- he’s still hot. Except now he’s hot and _in his bedroom_ , and Dimitri is planting kisses to the side of his neck where he’s most sensitive, and _this is really happening, isn’t it_.

“You… got me Sylvain,” he deadpans, doing everything he can to maintain the facade of disinterest he’d so carefully cultivated around the both of them for years.

“Hey, hot stuff,” Sylvain grins, “By the virtue of His Majesty the king, I have been summoned here today- er, well, two days ago, but we got held up by that snowstorm- whatever, I’m here. For you. Happy birthday!” 

If he thinks about it any longer, he’s going to explode. He kisses Sylvain. 

It is nothing like the way Dimitri kisses, soft and tender like he can’t believe it’s real; Sylvain kisses with experience, with intimate knowledge of what will make him squirm (how, exactly, he’s not in the mindset to ask). When he pushes his tongue past Felix’s lips, licking behind his teeth and sucking in his bottom lip, an unrestrained moan falls from him. Sylvain chuckles against his mouth before drawing back and flicking his earlobe with his spit-slick tongue. 

“Ew,” Felix huffs, “You’re disgusting.” 

“Aw, is it?” Sylvain coos in his ear, “I’m only gonna get dirtier, kitten.” Felix swats him for the pet name- not because it’s a pet name, necessarily, but because of _that_ incident, which will not be dignified with a remembrance.

Whatever rebellious energy he has in him is sapped the moment he hears Dimitri lock the door and slide up behind him, his cock half hard and pressing against the cleft of his ass insistently. “Be nice,” he whispers, “I got you such a lovely gift. At least pretend to be grateful.” Oh, so _that’s_ how he wanted to play tonight. Fair enough. 

“Make me,” Felix growls, toothless. The phrase, cliched as it is, is an invitation Dimitri knows well.

Dimitri’s hand is on his shoulder and shoving him down to the floor in an instant. He lands with a thud, then a bit-back gasp when he sees Sylvain had used him and Dimitri’s ordained pre-sex bickering time to undress. He’s big- not quite as wide as Dimitri, but longer, and he’s not even fully hard yet.

“Apologize,” Dimitri commands, a familiar, provoking darkness in his voice, “Be a good boy. Tell him how sorry you are and he might still give you something nice.”

Felix groans, half in frustration and half in anticipation- it’s hard to think of anything but getting Sylvain in his mouth when he’s literally _right there_.

“Sorry,” he manages.

Sylvain pouts, tilting Felix’s chin up to let their eyes meet. “I dunno Felix, that _really_ hurt. Can’t you do a little better?” 

“It didn’t even leave a mark, you-

He is cut off by Sylvain’s hand tightening, not yet affecting his breath, but threatening to. “It hurt my _soul_ , kitten,” he whines, lips flicking up at the corners when Felix writhes a little, “Dima was going on and on about how good you are, and I thought we were off to a good start, but you started getting all fierce with me. Don’t you want us to make you feel good?”

Damn him. “...yes,” Felix says softly. 

“Yes what?” Dimitri offers, trailing a still-gloved hand up his spine tantalizingly.

“Yes, I want you to make me feel good.” He inhales deeply, stifling whatever rude thing he was about to say. “Please.”

Sylvain chuckles and runs his fingers through Felix’s hair, pulling at a few sections experimentally. “Aw, I can’t stay mad at you. Come on over to the bed and let’s get you situated.” 

Sylvain takes his sweet time walking the two meters of floor between the door and the bed; his body is thick and smooth with muscle, but the years of peace have afforded him a little more softness around the edges. And of course, it’s all gone to his ass, because the goddess works in mysterious ways.

He is still on his knees when Dimitri orders him to strip, and he does. He tosses his clothes to the side and crawls to where Sylvain is seated, quietly proud of the way it makes Sylvain groan. He sits on his haunches at his feet.

“Open your mouth, beloved,” a now bare Dimitri says, settling behind him, pressing lewd kisses behind his ear. He places a hand tenderly on his shoulder and worries the tight muscles with his thumb. “Color?”

“Green,” Felix breathes, “One for no, two for yes when I can’t talk, I know.” Then he opens his mouth expectantly.

He’s been thinking about the way Sylvain will feel in his mouth for the past however long it has been since he first saw him undressed, but it cannot compare to how it _actually_ is; he is heavy and hot on his tongue, a hand still tangled in his hair urging him lower, lower, until he feels the wiry path of hair at his base brush against his nose. He almost gags, but resists it, instead groaning long and low. Sylvain makes a similar noise.

“ _Fuck,_ Dima, he feels so good,” he moans, “Goddess, y’know, I always knew that wicked mouth of his had better uses, but _hah-_ ” He cannot stop the noise that wrenches itself from his throat as Felix draws back slightly, then pushes back in, hollowing his cheeks.

“-who would have guessed our Felix was such a good cocksucker?” Sylvain laughs softly, warm and bright like sunshine, not like a man who currently has his cock buried in his childhood friend’s throat while said friend’s husband watches.

_Shit. Dimitri is watching. Is he stroking himself? Is he holding back? What did Sylvain mean when he said Dimitri had told him how good he was? How long have these assholes been planning this?_

His question is (partially) answered when he hears the familiar rattle of their nightstand drawer opening, and the clinking of glass against its wood grain. He arches his back slightly, wiggling his hips like a damned harlot.

“Mm, you excited for that, huh?” Sylvain asks gleefully, “Can I fuck your face baby? You’d look so good choking on my cock, baby, I know you would.” Felix taps against his leg twice. He braces himself as Sylvain begins to move.

He starts slowly, thrusting just a little ways out before pushing back in brutally, then picking up the pace. Each time he feels himself hit the back of Felix’s throat, hears those little noises of effort mixed with desperate moans vibrating against his skin, he thinks he is about to burst; Felix’s mouth is so hot and tight around him, and there are tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“You like that, Fe?” he pants, “You like hearing how pretty you look? That’s good, because you- _hah, fuck, baby, do that thing with your tongue again_ \- you look so gorgeous with your mouth stretched open like this. Real tempted to cum down that sweet throat of yours, but I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t fuck you proper too.” 

Felix sighs, for once with contentment and not annoyance. He hadn’t realized how hard his own cock had gotten during the assault on his throat, but he’s made brilliantly aware of it when Dimitri wraps a slick hand around him, stroking him slowly. He chuckles darkly at the startled noise Felix makes.

“You can come if you want, sweetheart,” Dimitri murmurs against the back of his neck, “No restrictions tonight. It’s your birthday present, after all. As long as you’re content to let us make you come a couple more times after.”

A part of him wants to protest, to tell him it’s too much, too full in his throat and too tight around his cock, but he pushes it away and finds a muffled scream escaping as he spills over Dimitri’s hand, hips bucking forward and, finally, gagging on Sylvain’s cock in his mouth.

He’s heaving for breath as Sylvain pulls out, brushing the tears away from his cheeks and kissing him softly on the forehead. 

“‘did so good, Fe,” he says softly, voice heavy with sincerity, “So good for us. Let’s get you nice and open. Do you want any water or anything before we keep going?” 

Felix shakes his head- though his throat is positively roughed-up, the filthy part of his mind that’s in control right now doesn’t care.

“Okay, baby,” Sylvain sweetens, “Come on up by me, and indulge me a bit, okay? I wanna play with these luscious locks you’ve been keeping secret from me.” 

He obeys, barely resisting the urge to question what exactly he would have rather him done. Should he have included that in his letters, infrequent as they were? _I’m doing well. By the way, my hair is really long now. Please come over and pull it while I suck your cock. Regards, Duke Fraldarius._

He shivers involuntarily when Dimitri pushes an oiled finger into him, torturously slow. True to his words, Sylvain threads his fingers through his hair, pulling them through the locks and stopping to gently work out any knots he comes across. It was oddly soothing, almost enough so to distract him from how good it feels when Dimitri adds a second finger, scissoring them and teasing over his prostate tantalizingly. He pushes back, fucking himself on the fingers the way he knows Dimitri likes and moaning without restraint as they press against that bundle of nerves inside him, sending shockwaves all the way down to his toes. By the time Dimitri has added a third finger, his cock is fully hard again, and his moans are barely quieted by the way he has shoved his face into the meat of Sylvain’s thigh. 

“That’s enough,” he whines, “Come on, I- I want his cock.” Sylvain beams with pride- luckily Felix can’t see that from his current position. He and Dimitri switch positions, and he slicks himself with oil before gently pressing the head of his cock into Felix’s entrance. Slowly, he pushes himself in, groaning deeply. 

“Fuck- Dima, he’s so tight, fucking _saints_ ,” he says, voice trembling, “I feel like it’s _my_ birthday.” 

The beginning of a soft laugh comes from Felix, but it is cut off when Sylvain is finally fully sheathed in him. “Maybe if _you’re_ good, you can get this for your birthday, too,” he manages weakly. Did he just promise Sylvain a second time? Innate, difficult Felix wants to disagree, but horny, fucked-out Felix fights him vehemently. Yes, of course he wants a second go, if it’s going to feel _this_ good. 

“How the tables have turned, you little minx!” Sylvain smiles. And then he begins to move. And _oh_ how it feels when he moves- what began as soft whines quickly turns into an undammed stream of _ah, ah, ah, ah_ as each harsh thrust pushes into his prostate. Dimitri supports his upper body in his arms, giving him better access to his neck and chest, where he bites and licks little marks with abandon.

“F- fuck, gonna-” Felix whines harshly, “Gonna come, feels so good, _hahh-_ -” It’s all the warning any of them gets before he’s spilling a second time, white hot pleasure overtaking him as he cries out and clenches around Sylvain’s cock. 

Dimitri stills for a moment, his assault of kisses and love-biting paused. He does that when he’s thinking- Felix can practically hear the gears turning his head.

“Felix,” he says, soft, in a tone dangerously close to begging, “Do you think you could take both of us?”

He has no idea, but his cock seems to think so, twitching just at the words. Even Sylvain takes pause, waiting to gauge his reaction before continuing.

“I don’t like being doubted,” Felix grumbles. Sylvain could cheer. He won’t, but he definitely could. 

They take a moment to rearrange. Sylvain lies on his back and slowly lowers Felix back onto his cock, letting him settle and rock himself back and forth a few times just to readjust to the feeling of fullness. 

“Ready?” Dimitri asks, butterflies in his stomach having evidently made it to his throat. 

Felix nods and shoots him a glare. “I said yes, didn’t I?” 

Sylvain thrusts up into him once, roughly, and chuckles at the yelp he makes. “He’s getting sassy again, Dima. Hurry up then, if he’s so desperate for it.” The head of Dimitri’s cock pushes up against his hole.

It feels- it feels _impossible_ is how it feels, like he’s going to burst at the seams, be split in twain by two unreasonably big cocks. But when Dimitri begins to push in further, stretching him to the fullest he’s ever been, it very quickly stops feeling impossible and starts to feel _amazing_. 

He’s far beyond words when Dimitri begins to move, grunting with effort and slinging an arm around his waist to gain better leverage. Sylvain can’t quite match his rhythm, but tries, thrusting erratically up into Felix, he can do nothing but moan. It’s too much, too sensitive, he’s too full, but he’s never felt this good in his fucking _life_ , so well-fucked and taken care of, and it’s just fate’s funny way of doing things that it’s Sylvain who got him into this mess.

“You gonna give us a third one, baby?” Sylvain asks, clearly nearing his own release, “Come on baby, let us feel you- me and your Dima, come for us, sweetheart, baby- oh, _fuck_ -” It’s actually Sylvain that comes first between the three of them, half-shouting in pleasure as he spills against Dimitri’s cock. 

“Did you just come from your own dirty talk?” Felix laughs, too far gone for it to hold any rudeness, “That’s- that’s rid-oh, fuck, Dima, _Dima, Dima, Dima, right there, I-_ ” 

The thought is left unfinished when he comes a third time, just the slightest ooze of cum trickling from his overspent cock as he can no longer hold back a scream that’s been building for some time now. Dimitri follows soon after, grunting loudly and moaning a sweet, slurred mixture of his and Sylvain’s names as he, too, spills inside Felix.

A few seconds later, laid on his back, a wet rag against his forehead, he realizes he must have blacked out for a moment.

“Felix,” Dimitri whines, replacing the rag with a kiss to his temple, “Felix, my dear, you _must_ tell me when it’s too much! You know I can’t bear the thought of hurting you, I-”

“‘was too busy coming, sorry,” Felix grunts weakly. He hears Sylvain sputter as he holds back a laugh. Dimitri huffs a little, but settles for lying down, his head on Felix’s chest, savoring each _ba_ and _dum_ of his heartbeat. Sylvain joins them soon, resting his head on top of Felix’s and holding Dimitri against the both of them as best he can. It feels more natural than he would have expected, being held in this way by someone who was “just a friend” a day earlier. 

“So, not too start planning too far in advance, but my birthday _is_ the next one up,” Sylvain says, “I should clear my schedule in advance, right?”

Dimitri chuckles, a light rumble in his chest. “That might be for the best.”


End file.
